


space that’s in between every page

by Hirikka



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Himbo Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Idiots in Love, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirikka/pseuds/Hirikka
Summary: Geralt has learned many things about Jaskier over the years: He is loud and annoying, loyal and stubborn; he has a knack for getting into trouble and for talking his way out of it; he has never been afraid of Geralt (even when he probably should have been), and he is married to a viscount.That last piece of information ends up being the most troublesome.Or, five times that Geralt thought that Jaskier was married to Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, and the time he (finally) realized they were the same person.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 86
Kudos: 1584





	space that’s in between every page

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this absolutely delightful [tumblr post](https://geraskier-trash.tumblr.com/post/627001813373157376)!
> 
> * * *

**_i_ **

Geralt is not sure when he first heard the name Julian Alfred Pankratz. Jaskier talks about so many people that it is difficult to keep track. And that is putting aside the fact that for the first few months (or perhaps years) of knowing the bard, he tuned out most of what the man said. It hardly seemed important at the time, when he was sure that Jaskier would lose interest and flit away at any moment.

By the time he realizes that Jaskier is not planning to leave any time soon, he’s also missed any window where it is reasonable to ask _who_ the people he mentions are. Most of them are fairly easy to figure out, once Geralt is paying attention. Classmates from Oxenfurt are frequently mentioned, and he almost never talks about any family members.

It’s Julian, though, who comes up the most. Not that often really, in the grand scheme of things, but he’s usually mentioned at least once a season. His relationship to Jaskier is the least obvious; at first, Geralt assumes that he is some sort of patron for Jaskier’s music, but that doesn’t quite seem right. It takes almost two years for him to figure it out; after all, Jaskier doesn’t act like a married man. But Geralt is sure that is what is happening, the only explanation that makes sense: Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, is Jaskier’s husband.

_**ii** _

“No taste for the arts,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath. “Completely absurd.”

“We can leave,” Geralt murmurs. He can get the information later, stop by to speak to the lord at some point when there isn’t a party happening. He would prefer that, to be honest, even if it would slow them down. He hates fancy parties like this, and Jaskier’s tendency to sulk for several hours when nobles don’t appreciate his music is a good excuse to leave and come back later.

Jaskier looks at Geralt and huffs. “No, you need the information. I can put my ego aside.”

“Hm.” Geralt isn’t sure where that leaves them.

The guard shifts, placing a hand on his sword as a reminder that _Jaskier_ is not invited.

“Look for Julian Alfred Pankratz—” Jaskier says, turning his attention back to the guard “—Viscount de Lettenhove.”

The guard looks dubious for a moment, but he does check the list of invited guests, and after a moment, he gives a nod and steps out of their way.

Geralt follows Jaskier, trying to focus on the information he needs to get and not the unpleasant emotions that tend to well up every time Julian is mentioned.

_**iii** _

Geralt plants his feet, stalling the guards who are trying to move him away from the gathered crowd, and turns his attention to the man who had hired him—he had seemed at least somewhat sympathetic. “Please, get word to Jaskier. The bard. Let him know that—”

One of the guards shoves him forward, and he stumbles against the ropes tying him again.

“Wait.” The command is clear in the man's tone. The guards come to a stop as a tall man with dark hair steps through the crowd.

“Sir?” One of the guards holding Geralt asks.

“What’s going on here?” the man asks. He looks like a noble, wearing fine clothes and with the air of someone used to getting their way.

“The witcher was found sneaking into the city. Armed.”

“I was hired for a job,” Geralt growls. “How am I supposed to hunt without swords?”

The man looks at Geralt now. “Are you Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt nods.

“Let him go,” the man instructs. The guards hesitate for a moment, but at a glare, they hastily release Geralt and reluctantly leave, fading into the crowd.

“Thank you,” Geralt says, rubbing at his wrists.

“Not to worry. I heard you mention Jaskier, and I knew I had to step in.”

“You know Jaskier?”

“I’m Ferrant de Lettenhove. Julian’s my cousin,” Ferrant says.

Geralt manages to keep his face impassive. He sincerely hopes that word of this doesn’t make it back to Julian—he can’t imagine the man being happy to have his spouse traveling with a witcher; no need for it to become worse by mentioning that he was almost arrested.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Ferrant asks. “So that you can conclude your job in the city?”

“It’s alright,” Geralt grunts. “Don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“Not to worry.” Ferrant offers a small smile. “I’m the royal instigator; there are very few people with the authority to cause me trouble.”

Geralt hates the idea of being indebted to _Julian_ , but he does need to finish this job, and he’s not particularly interested in getting into more legal trouble for being armed in the city.

_**iv** _

Geralt is used to Jaskier wearing jewelry; the bard is like a magpie, constantly picking up new shiny trinkets to wear. This ring seems different, though. It is larger and more ornate, and a symbol on it indicates that it is a sigil ring. He’s fairly certain that Jaskier didn’t have it the year before, and now he seems to wear it every day.

“Where’d you get that ring?” Geralt asks.

“Hm?” Jaskier looks up from his lute, meeting Geralt’s gaze.

“The ring.” Geralt waves his hand towards the ring glittering in the firelight.

“It’s a Lettenhove family heirloom,” Jaskier says.

“Oh.” Geralt feels his heart sink. He’s never known Jaskier to wear a wedding band or anything else connecting him to his husband. He wonders what this means, if it suggests that they have gotten closer over the previous winter. “That’s nice.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. Jaskier, used to him, just smiles and returns to practicing his lute.

**

Whatever the ring suggests, it isn’t that Jaskier is going to be more committed. More loyal to his husband. He still flirts just as much, still beds whatever pretty stranger catches his fancy.

Geralt cannot stop thinking about it and finds his gaze drawn to the ring at inopportune moments. This obvious reminder that Jaskier is bound to another, that no matter how far he might be willing to wander with Geralt, he is always going to return to someone else.

**

Geralt feels pleasantly light from the wine he’s drunk; it had been flowing freely at the festival they are attending, and the townsfolk were in a good enough mood between the holiday and Geralt’s successful hunt that they had been welcoming to Geralt. He’s found a spot on the outskirts of the town square and is leaning against a wall, watching Jaskier dance through the crowd of locals. He is bright and joyful, and Geralt feels warm and pleased.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says. He’s standing in front of Geralt now, still catching his breath and smiling so very wide. “Come and dance with him.”

“I don’t dance,” Geralt says without any of his usual heat.

“I’ll lead,” Jaskier says, taking his hand, and Geralt allows it, letting Jaskier pull him close and start leading him through the steps of the dance. Geralt thinks that he would allow Jaskier anything, and the thought does not scare him the way it once did.

“See? It’s not that hard,” Jaskier murmurs.

He is so very close, one hand clasping Geralt’s and the other resting on his shoulder. Geralt can feel the steady beat of Jaskier’s heart from where they are pressed together, and his senses are overwhelmed by Jaskier’s lavender and mint scent.

Jaskier sways in, somehow impossibly moving closer, and his eyes dart down to Geralt’s lips before returning to meet the witcher’s gaze. For a moment, Geralt thinks that he ought to finally give in, to let himself want and have. Then, Jaskier’s hand in his shifts and Geralt feels the touch of metal, and all at once, he remembers _why_ he has never allowed himself to respond to Jaskier’s flirting. He steps back hastily, wrenching his hand away.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s face is clouded in confusion, but Geralt’s eyes are drawn down to the signet ring on Jaskier’s hand. He turns and flees back to the inn, ignoring Jaskier’s confused call behind him.

He cannot acknowledge this want, no matter how much his heart aches. Jaskier would only ever be able to see Geralt as a dalliance, a flight of fancy; he cannot truly be Geralt’s, not in the way Geralt wishes him to be. Not when he is married. And Geralt knows himself, knows he is not strong enough to take that step, knowing that it would not mean the same thing to Jaskier that it would to him. It is better to keep Jaskier’s friendship and companionship. It has to be.

_**v** _

Geralt turns to Jaskier. It’s not the time for jokes, not when he feels like he’s been stabbed, but he understands what Jaskier is trying to do. He turns, intending to tell Jaskier to let him be, but then the light catches on Jaskier’s ring. On the ring that _Julian_ gave to him, and suddenly Geralt’s own hurt is boiling over.

Julian knows that Jaskier will return to him, that no matter how far the bard wanders, he will come home, and Geralt is hit with a wave of jealousy. He craves that assurance—the certainty that someone will always come back. He thought he had that with Yennefer, but he lost her through his own actions. He doesn’t know why he thought it would end any differently; witchers are not made to have connections. Yennefer wants nothing to do with him, and Jaskier has a husband to return to, and Geralt has nothing but his swords and his horse and his anger.

He has spent so long suppressing his emotions, pretending they didn’t exist. Now, he is overwhelmed with sorrow and longing that feels impossible to push aside or ignore. So he lets it out in the only way he knows how: as rage. He turns on Jaskier and unleashes his fury, takes out his hurt on the only person who has chosen to remain with him. [He spits] cruel cutting remarks designed to cause the most damage possible.

Geralt stares out over the mountains and tries to force himself not to regret what he has just done. Tries to convince himself that it is better this way—if Jaskier isn’t loyal to the man he married, then it is only a matter of time before he leaves Geralt as well; better to have it over and done with.

He fails.

**

Yen smirks at him over the top of her wine glass, and Geralt feels his heart sink—this conversation had been going surprisingly well. Yen had forgiven him for the djinn bond, and, although she was no longer interested in a relationship with him, she does seem excited to help with Ciri; he thinks they can become friends. He’s content with that—he can see now that their relationship did neither of them any good. This smirk, though, means trouble, and he’s not sure he’s prepared for that.

“I saw Julian the other day,” Yen says.

Geralt glares at her.

“He’s in good health, seems to be doing well.”

“Hm.”

“Would you like to know where he is?” Yen prompts.

“Why would I want to know that?” Geralt growls.

For a moment Yennefer’s smug mask of indifference falls away, but she recovers quickly. “Just thought I’d make the offer.” She drains the wine glass and stands. “See you around, Geralt.” For a moment, she almost looks concerned about something, but then she has swept out of the room.

The scent of lilac and gooseberry lingers in the air as Geralt looks down at the table and wonders why Yen would have mentioned seeing Julian but not Jaskier. Had the bard mentioned their fight to her? Had he asked Yen not to tell Geralt where he was? Or, worse, had Jaskier _not_ been at home with his husband? Geralt had managed to ease his worry for the bard by convincing himself that Jaskier was safe at his home, not wandering the countryside getting into trouble, but perhaps he was wrong to think that. Geralt grits his teeth and pushes the thoughts aside. He can’t let himself give in to panic now—not when he has Ciri to care for.

**+1**

“You saved my life!” the knight gasps up at him. Geralt has a sinking feeling.

“Hm.”

“I—” the knight starts.

“It’s fine,” Geralt cuts him off. He’s not interested in claiming any kind of reward—he has enough trouble with one child surprise.

The knight blinks at him for a moment, assessing. “I understand. There’s a contract out for this monster; let me at least show you back to the estate so that you can collect the reward.”

“Hm.” Geralt is still worried that the man might press, insist on offering something in exchange for a perceived debt, but he and Ciri do need the coin; he hasn’t wanted to take jobs when it means leaving her alone. It had only been chance that had brought him to this man and the kikimora attacking him. “Fine.”

“Good.” The man smiles at Geralt without a hint of fear, and Geralt feels off-kilter for a moment. “Will you also accept my hospitality and stay for the night? I can give you food and a bed.”

Geralt hesitates. “I’m not… traveling alone.”

“Oh? Well your companion is welcome as well,” the man says. “My name is Kaz.”

He takes the extended hand. “Geralt.”

He catches the smallest hint of shock in the Kaz’ scent, but the man doesn’t say anything, so Geralt doesn’t worry about it. He leads the way back to the road where Ciri is waiting with Roach.

The man rubs his hand across the back of his head. “My horse spooked; she’s probably smart enough to make it home on her own, but we’ll have to walk.”

Geralt nods but doesn’t say anything until they reach the road. “Fiona, this is Kaz. We’re going to stay with him for the night.”

Ciri brightens considerably at the prospect of a warm bed.

“We’re close to the Lettenhove estate,” Kaz says. “We should be there in time for dinner.”

Geralt freezes, considers throwing himself onto Roach and riding as far away as he can before they lose the light. The last thing he wants is to finally be confronted with Julian. The possibility of seeing Jaskier again is something he has longed for and dreaded, but seeing him with his husband is unthinkable.

He has Ciri to think of, though, so he doesn’t give in to his own fear. He just follows Kaz and feels his stomach sink with every step.

**

Kaz is greeted warmly as they approach the estate, and Geralt revises his assessment; this man clearly holds a higher rank than his clothing suggests. Geralt and Ciri keep their hoods up as they move towards the castle, but he still sees curious gazes following them.

Once they are inside, Kaz summons a servant. “We’ll set you up in a guest room. Dinner is in half an hour, so you should have time for a bath before that, if you wish to warm up.” Kaz looks down at his own muddy clothes. “I know I do. Someone will be sent to get you for dinner.”

Geralt nods and lets the servant lead him and Ciri down a different hall, presumably to the guest wing. Part of him still wants to protest, but it is overpowered by how badly he wants to see Jaskier again. He knows it will likely hurt, but it is better to know that he is safe.

**

The dining hall that Geralt and Ciri are led to is small and intimate, although it is still richly decorated. Kaz is already at the table, along with a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Jaskier.

“Good sir witcher!” Kaz smiles as he stands. “And Fiona. This is my wife Estera.”

“Thank you for saving my idiot husband,” Estera says.

Geralt shifts, uncomfortable with the warm reception; it’s so different from what he is used to. He wonders what Jaskier could have possibly told these people to make them so open towards him.

A servant opens the door, and Geralt is briefly grateful for the distraction before the man announces: “The Viscount de Lettenhove.” Then his heart sinks, and he tries to brace himself to see the man Jaskier married.

The servant steps aside, and Jaskier steps into the room. His clothes are suited for the cold, but still show his flair for color—bright and vibrant against the more muted colors most people wear in winter. He is alone, and the door closes behind him. So where is the viscount? Although, Geralt supposes that Jaskier would technically share the title with his husband, so perhaps Julian won’t be joining them. He isn’t sure if he should be relieved or even more concerned.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is strangled, shocked. His scent tinges with something bitter.

Kaz glances between them, looking pleased. “I _thought_ this was your witcher, Julek.”

“Kaz. What did you do?” Jaskier’s voice is cold, and he isn’t looking at Geralt any longer.

“He saved me from an arachas. I insisted he come collect the reward and stay for dinner. It’s nothing nefarious.”

Jaskier sighs. “I'll take my meal in my room.”

He turns and leaves. Geralt isn’t sure what is happening.

“Why is he leaving?” Kaz asks.

“You are a fool,” Estera says although she sounds fond. She leans past Kaz to look at Geralt. “You can still fix this.”

“Fix what?”

Estera snorts. “Honestly. _Men_. The fact that you broke his heart, witcher.”

“What?”

“If you don’t care for him, you can stay for the night and leave tomorrow and never see him again—“ she catches Geralt’s wince “—but since that isn’t what you want, you should probably go after him”

Geralt stands. “I'll be back,” he says to Ciri. He doesn’t ask about Julian, doesn’t ask about the comment about Jaskier’s broken heart. It feels vital to speak to Jaskier now, before any more time has passed.

He leaves the hall and follows Jaskier’s scent, trying not to think about why it seems to have soured _or_ about the fact that, if Jaskier has gone to his rooms, there’s every chance that Geralt will be arriving to find _Julian_.

The room is easy enough to find, although it is not in the kind of grand hallway that Geralt would have expected for the viscount. He can hear Jaskier plucking at his lute—not in any tune, and Geralt is familiar enough with his habits to know he’s anxious. The room doesn't smell like anyone but Jaskier, so perhaps he and Julian don’t share chambers. At least that means he might be able to talk to Jaskier alone.

He hesitates a moment longer before he knocks on the door. He hears Jaskier sigh and the movement of fabric.

“Come in, Geralt.”

Geralt pushes the door open and steps into the room, suddenly feeling unsure of what he should do.

“I’m sorry that Kaz made you go to the formal dinner,” Jaskier says when it becomes clear that Geralt isn’t going to say anything. “If I had known, I would have stayed away.”

“Why?” Geralt asks. He doesn’t understand why Jaskier is hiding in his own home.

“Because you don’t want to see me?” Jaskier says slowly. “Your life’s one blessing and all that?”

Geralt grits his teeth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No?” Jaskier’s voice is cold. “Then why say it?”

“Because of Julian!” Geralt snaps. It’s not the whole truth, but it is as much as he can admit to.

“What?” Jaskier asks. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Geralt forces himself to take a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to explain without revealing his own feelings for Jaskier in the process. “After Yennefer, it made me think of the way Julian might feel about—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier interrupts, “who do you think Julian is?”

Geralt frowns at him. “Your husband.”

Jaskier is completely frozen for a moment, and then he flops back into the bed and starts giggling. “How—” he tries to get himself under control “—how long have we known each other?”

“Hm.” Geralt knows that he’s missing something, but he doesn’t know what.

Jaskier sits up after a minute, managing to get his laughter under control. “Oh my dear witcher.” Jaskier sighs, but his scent has lost the sour notes. “I suppose I never formally introduced myself, did I?”

“Hm.”

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove—” he sweeps into a formal bow “—at your service.”

“I… hm.” Geralt’s mind is racing, reassessing everything with this new piece of information.

Jaskier giggles again. “I can’t believe you thought I was _married._ ”

Geralt frowns at him. It is possibly an expression that Jaskier would describe as pouting.

“I’m still not happy about what you said on the mountain,” Jaskier says, growing more serious.

“I am sorry,” Geralt says. “I shouldn’t have said it. No matter what I thought. It, hm. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Jaskier beams. “Apology accepted.” He pats Geralt on the shoulder. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” He moves to open the door.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asks.

“You look like you could use food, and _I_ would like to meet your child surprise properly.”

Geralt steps closer before he can think better of it and catches Jaskier’s arm, pulling him away from the door.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt pulls Jaskier closer and leans down to kiss him. Jaskier makes a pleased noise, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and deepening the kiss—it feels like coming home.

After a moment, Jaskier pulls back slightly and narrows his eyes. “Did you ignore my flirting for _twenty years_ because you thought I was married?”

“Hm,” Geralt says, meaning yes.

“Gods, you are such an idiot,” Jaskier says fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The Horror and the Wild" by The Amazing Devils.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> * * *


End file.
